


Tangled Autumn

by Cookie



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2012-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 11:45:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/597385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cookie/pseuds/Cookie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur suddenly finds he has a new housekeeper, and discovers he's not the only person with secrets weighing him down. But is the new arrival someone he can trust?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tangled Autumn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elirwen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elirwen/gifts).



> Warning: Attempted sexual assault (not too graphic)
> 
> Non-magical modern AU. 
> 
> Author's Notes: I tried to get a good few of the requested elements in, so I hope it's something you will enjoy. Happy Christmas. Many thanks to my beta L - I fiddled afterwards so any mistakes are all mine!
> 
> Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to Shine and BBC. I make no profit from this endeavor.

**Tangled Autumn**

**Late September**

Water dripped through tree branches onto leaves already turning from green to various shades of gold and auburn. A miserable figure stood huddled against the trunk of a massive horse-chestnut, hands shoved deep into the pockets of a tatty coat. The red scarf wrapped round his throat did little to combat the cool touch of the rain as it slipped through and under the wool to track an uncomfortably damp path down his skin: cold, ghostly fingers caressing him.

He waited, unmoving despite the weather, and passed the time reminding himself of who he was now. No more Merlin Emerson. Months had already been spent hiding behind his new identity and becoming Mortimer Jones to everyone he met, until he sometimes managed to forget it hadn't always been his name. Despondently, he wondered how he'd ended up in this mess in the first place.

Eventually his morose solitude was breached when another man joined him, and the contrast between them was almost painful. The new arrival sneered at the hunched figure, and Jones seemed to diminish even further, appearing pale and insignificant next to the splendour of the man’s breadth, which was covered by an immaculate Saville Row suit. From an inside pocket he produced an envelope and handed it over.

“You’ll find your instructions in here. You do this and I'll write off the debt you owe me. You and your mother will never see my – associates – again.” There was no missing the threat in the dark tones of the voice.

The envelope was taken and torn open.

“I don’t understand?”

“It’s simple enough – even for you - isn’t it? Besides, you don’t have to understand – you just have to do what you’re told.”

“I can’t do this.” He could hear the barely restrained panic in his own voice.

“You've no choice, Jones.” There was a gloating note there, the voice of one man who had power over another and wouldn't hesitate to use and enjoy it.

“I _hate_ you,” The sudden loathing prompted Jones’ response as the heat of his sudden anger filled his voice.

The man cracked a laugh. “Pity I don’t care. You’ll do this or you'll really, really regret it. Do you understand me?”

The brief spark of spirit was gone and Jones hunched down once more. He nodded wearily and didn't move as he was left alone, leaning against the tree as if he could draw strength from it. Eventually he straightened and looked at the envelope in his hand. His lips twisted briefly and he murmured quietly, “So it begins,” before shoving the envelope into his pocket and pushing away from the tree to walk through the park with a determined stride.

**

“Really, Father, when will you accept that I'm a grown man and am quite capable of managing my own life. I do not, in any shape or form, need a housekeeper. What on earth were you thinking?” Arthur Pendragon scowled around at the state of the cottage’s kitchen and vividly recalled his father’s surprise visit a few days previously and the disdain with which he'd stared round at the disarray.

It hadn’t improved since then. It was a large space, given a farmhouse feel with the oak units, slate floor and the centre of the room dominated by the scrubbed wooden table. The surface of the table was covered in the detritus of take away containers, used mugs and empty milk cartons. The Belfast sink was stacked high with dirty dishes. There was a short silence on the other side of the line suggesting that Uther was revisiting an unpleasant memory.

“Arthur,” Uther’s voice stopped him in his tracks. “Mortimer Jones will be arriving to begin work with you today. He'll live in the cottage. You quite obviously need someone to do the work and I hope you'll appreciate that I've organised this for you.”

Arthur bit his lip and sighed - loudly enough to be sure his father could be in no doubt as to his displeasure.

“Fine,” he said.

The doorbell sounded and Arthur groaned at the timing, ignoring the sudden, unexpected chuckle from his father. Even annoyed as he was, Arthur was warmed by the unusual mirth – even though it was directed at him. There'd been precious little to laugh about lately.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Arthur said and ended the call, aware his annoyance hadn't quite hidden his own fondness for his father.

Padding quickly into the hall, Arthur headed for the front of the house. He paused and stared at the shadowy outline of the figure on the other side of the door, watching through the glass as the person shifted as if they were about to move away.

Arthur drew in a deep breath. “Here we go,” he murmured, and opened the door.

**

Oh shit, he was completely, utterly and totally fucked – or at least he devoutly prayed that particular scenario might be a possibility in the near future.

It was the first thought to go through Merlin’s head when he was faced with the blond Adonis who opened the door. It was unfortunate the same blond Adonis was also scowling fiercely at him.

“What?” Merlin asked, and he almost laughed at the expression of shock that suddenly banished the scowl.

“You can’t talk to me like that,” Adonis said, obviously flustered. “You’re my employee.”

“Well, if you’re Arthur Pendragon, then technically I’m your father’s employee. And do you usually glare at people when you answer the door? It’s not exactly polite.” Merlin could say the same for himself, he thought, rather taken aback at his own rudeness. There was something about this man that incited strong reactions.

Beautiful eyebrows arched in disbelief. “And I suppose this is you demonstrating your own perfect manners?”

The scowl had gone and though the expression was still austere and Arthur’s posture radiated a certain aloof disapproval, it was belied by the twinkle of amusement that had crept into the blue eyes.

“I’m Mortimer Jones,” he introduced himself after a moment, realising he'd spent just a moment too long admiring the twinkle. _For fuck’s sake_ , he admonished himself. _Don't get distracted. You are here to do a job, that’s all._

“Who on earth named you Mortimer? Please tell me you have a nickname?” Arthur sounded almost pained and Merlin didn’t really blame him, although he expected his own expression gave away some of his thoughts.

“Right,” Arthur’s tone moved from mocking to brisk. “I shall call you _M_. How’s that? Good.” He rattled on without allowing Merlin to draw breath, never mind either agree or disagree. 

Not that he would, he realised. He'd always hated the name Mortimer and M – well, M would do perfectly. He blinked as he realised Arthur was still speaking.

“As you already know, I'm Arthur Pendragon, and you're here to take up the post as my housekeeper. My father kindly advised me of this fact about fifteen minutes ago and organised it without my knowledge or consent, so you may understand why I'm a little peeved.”

Merlin couldn’t quite smother his snort.

Arthur ignored him. “You’d better come in and I’ll show you around. Once you’re settled, we can discuss your duties.” He cast a fulminating glance up and down Merlin’s long, lean frame. “I don’t think you’re going to suit the maid’s uniform, though.” It was said with a completely straight face, but the twinkle was back.

“Don’t be too sure,” Merlin couldn’t resist the retort. What the hell was this man doing to him? “I’ve got fabulous legs and they look great in stockings.”

There was a glorious moment when Arthur spluttered, as if he'd tried to breathe, swallow and gasp all at the same time. His colour heightened and then he took a good long look at said appendages. By the time he collected himself, both men were pink.

“Well, you’ll … anyway…” Arthur was flustered again and Merlin chalked up a point in his favour. He grinned sunnily at Arthur and witnessed the resurgence of the scowl, but now it only made him chuckle.

Arthur sighed in a long-suffering fashion. “You’d better come in then, I suppose.”

Merlin grinned, hefted the two bags he had with him, and followed Arthur into the cottage, the two men squabbling lightly as Arthur tried to relieve him of one of the bags with Merlin just as firm about his ability to carry both.

**

There was no-one on this Earth, Merlin decided, who needed a housekeeper more than Arthur Pendragon. Apparently the last incumbent of the post had left some weeks before and under rather a cloud if Arthur’s reticence and obvious embarrassment was any clue. It seemed Arthur hadn't cleaned since and had, in fact, gone out and bought another entire dinner service when he ran out of crockery, rather than learning how to use the dishwasher. He'd also been existing on a diet of microwave meals and takeaway with all the nutritional content of cardboard.

Fortunately, in the corner of the kitchen was a small door, which led into a narrow corridor housing a small lounge with kitchen area, and bedroom with en-suite shower room. It wasn’t large but it was separate from the main house and Merlin thought he was probably going to need somewhere he could escape to. The place was also a terrible mess, but at least it meant he'd a retreat for those occasions when Arthur’s presence became too overwhelming. 

Like now.

Arthur Pendragon was definitely on the overwhelming side, no doubt about that. On first sight he was brash, over-confident, short-tempered, rude and completely obnoxious and yet even after three hours acquaintance Merlin had already seen his humour and an innate kindness. Arthur was a complex bundle of opposing characteristics and Merlin thought wistfully how much fun it would be to have a lifetime to spend trying to figure him out. He shook himself from those thoughts, reminding himself of what he was here to do. Somehow he didn’t think Arthur would want too much to do with him by the time he was finished. Merlin swallowed down a regret that felt too much like a lump in his throat.

Falling in love at first sight, he decided, had to be one of the dumber things he'd ever done in his life. Particularly given the situation.

After a tour of the cottage, which was really a small manor house, and a conversation about duties and time off, he'd retreated to the kitchen, loaded the dishwasher, and began to clean the small flat. That and the kitchen were his first priorities. It would take time to get the place to his usual standards, but he'd do what he could this first day.

By the time the third load in the dishwasher was ready to be dealt with, he'd made a complete inventory of the cupboards and had a huge shopping list. Casting a glance at the clock, he raided a freezer that hadn't been defrosted for some time and between that and remnants from what had obviously been a competent housekeeper at some stage, he managed to extricate enough ingredients to put together a sensible lunch.

Just as he was about to call Arthur, the man himself made an appearance, and his expression was so hopeful, Merlin nearly laughed out loud. He repressed the urge and asked instead. “Do you want lunch served in the dining room?”

Arthur shook his head. “We’ll have it together here today,” he decided. “I expect you’ve got a list of questions.”

Merlin nodded and quickly set two places at the newly scrubbed kitchen table, serving up a savoury soup and the cheese scones he'd managed to throw together. Silently, he blessed his mother for imparting both her love of cooking and her talent. He'd been told more than once that he should look at formal training to become a chef. He watched with pleasure the way Arthur dug into the food with gusto and as they ate they talked, both trying to ignore the times their banter slipped into outright flirtation.

**

Arthur rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. It was a full week since he had opened the door to find M on his doorstep and his initial attraction had solidified into a deep want that he hardly understood, yet instinctively recognised. He'd done his best to minimise the time they spent together and knew M was doing the same and yet they seemed to gravitate towards one another naturally. He stretched. It would be better after tomorrow, when he'd be due back in the office and would be missing from the house the best part of each day. Hopefully. 

Perhaps.

A quiet tap on the door was followed by the subject of Arthur’s thoughts, bearing a tray of morning coffee and a couple of home made ginger biscuits. M smiled at him but didn't speak, placing the tray on a small side table, tending the fire, and leaving just as quietly.

Arthur glanced round the room, noticing the way the firelight reflected in the beautifully polished furniture, how the fireplace itself was clean, with piles of logs and coal in their respective baskets. He smiled a little at the small vase of late roses and greenery. This room was a reflection of the house, which inside a week seemed to have emerged like a butterfly from the disarray and dirt. For the first time, it felt like a home.

He stretched and rose, ambling across to the tray of coffee and taking a few moments to sit and enjoy his morning drink. When he was done, he took a deep breath and pulled out the first of the financial reports he had to go through, trying to disassociate himself from what he was seeing and what it was telling him.

** **Late October**

The next few weeks passed in something of a haze for Arthur, as he was working at the office each day trying to maintain the pretence that all was well. The interaction with M at the start and end of each day swiftly became the only bright spots in an unremitting dark pressure. Each morning he'd return from his run and then, once showered and dressed for the day, would be faced with a pot of coffee and whatever M had decided to bake for breakfast. It at least set him up well for days that now always seemed difficult.

Increasingly, it was when Arthur came home each evening that he was beginning to feel signs of himself beginning to unravel. The unremitting pressure of a day spent with people he loved yet no longer knew he could trust was only made bearable by M’s presence. As he turned into the drive and saw the house lights shining softly, knew there was a crystal tumbler of whisky waiting his arrival, and fluffy towels heating in the pristine bathroom with a fabulous dinner to follow his shower, he could feel his tension begin to dispel, at least a little. Unfortunately, it also reminded him constantly of how difficult the days were. He was astute enough to realise it was the fact M was the one taking such care of him that was the major contribution to the increased sense of well-being. He'd no real way of expressing his thanks, for M wasn't to know of the demons driving Arthur at the moment, but he wasn't sure what he would do without the aura of calm capability and warm concern he was offered. It eased the stress, certainly, but provided a foil to the hell of the situation at the company and it was becoming increasingly difficult to go back to it each morning.

Usually in the evenings he welcomed M’s unobtrusive presence, not too keen to talk to anyone after a day in the office and too aware of his attraction to M to risk spending too much time with him when he was feeling vulnerable and badly in need of some affection. Tonight, however, he felt almost desperate for some company to distract him from his increasingly muddled thoughts, and when M called him to dinner, he stopped on the bottom step and asked.

“Why don’t you join me?”

M blinked, “Arthur,” he said, smiling a bemused little smile that Arthur just wanted to kiss. “The help doesn’t usually eat with the boss.”

“Ah, but I’m not your boss, remember?” He tried to keep his tone light, but there must have been something in it that M read as entreaty as he nodded and turned away to the dining room. When Arthur followed him in he was busy setting another place.

In a fit of honesty, Arthur said, “Thanks – I could really use some company this evening.”

“Don’t you have friends you can call?” The normal abrasive, teasing edge M adopted with him was absent, Arthur noted, and he was grateful for that tonight. He shrugged in response and Merlin, after gracing him with a swift, keen-eyed appraisal, did not pursue it.

Their conversation was broad ranging and never strayed into the personal. It was also missing the combative element that had so characterised their interchanges, and held a level of fondness reflecting the growing closeness neither was yet willing to acknowledge.

After dinner, Arthur retired to the study, retrieving the pen drive from his briefcase and downloading the contents. Sighing, he pressed his fingers to his temples and cast all thoughts of M from him.

**

Merlin cleared up from dinner and made his preparations for the next day before he stumbled through to his own space, resolutely locking the door behind him. This was crazy, he decided. It was an untenable situation. In the weeks since he'd arrived here there'd been no change to his initial reaction to Arthur. Instead, every day had seen him find it more and more difficult not to react to the gentle teasing and flirting. And if he was being honest then he had to admit he wasn't really trying. It was becoming more obvious, too, that the attraction wasn't one-sided and every interaction left him wanting more.

He really was fucked.

**

The following morning, Arthur stopped as he was about to leave.

“I’ve left some papers out on the desk. I’ll be working on them tonight so if you’re cleaning in there I’d be grateful if you didn’t disturb them.”

“I’ll be careful. You have a good day.”

Arthur met that with an expression that was closer to a grimace than a smile. “None of them are good days, M.” He immediately looked sorry he'd spoken. 

“It’ll get better, I’m sure,” Merlin tried to console him.

“Well, it will be over soon – one way or the other, I suppose. “

What could he say to that? Merlin smiled, and waited until the car turned out of the drive, waving in response to the hand Arthur raised before he passed through the gate and Merlin was left feeling ridiculously alone and forlorn.

Not to mention sick to his stomach. 

Merlin waited a full hour, to ensure Arthur wouldn't return and then headed to the study. Once there, he pulled the camera from his pocket and carefully, piece by piece, photographed every sheet of paper. Once done, he checked the memory card and then after a final tidy up, left the room. Back in his own quarters, he sent a quick text and then tried to put it all from him, turning his thoughts to what he could serve Arthur for dinner rather than his unconscionable betrayal of the man he loved.

The phone beeped at him, and with a sigh he checked it, frowning at the message before responding and shoving it away from him. 

By the time Arthur returned, Merlin had buried his guilt in a meal of cordon bleu standard and was aware of Arthur’s surprised pleasure when he served dinner. There was some flimsy reason offered by Arthur resulting in another invitation to join him and Merlin smiled weakly at him as he sat, despite knowing what a bad idea it was to let them grow any closer.

They ate in relative silence for a time until Arthur remarked.

“Would you be able to handle it if I'd some company this weekend? I’d like to invite some friends down.”

“Of course.” It was the first time since he'd arrived that Arthur had had any company at all.

“Lance and Gwen are married, and then there'll be my sister, Morgana, and Leon. Better provide them with a room each, I suppose – then they can make their own decision from there. I’m never sure whether they’re on or off. They’ll arrive on Friday evening and my father will join us for Sunday lunch. Is that okay?”

“No problem at all,” Merlin smiled. “It'll be fun.”

“Yes.” 

Merlin frowned and wondered how one syllable could possibly sound so bleak. Instead of commenting, he turned the conversation to the antics of the local churchwarden and Sunday School teacher, who seemed to be at daggers drawn. Merlin managed to make Arthur laugh as he described the Vicar setting up a book on when the two of them would realise they were in love. As Merlin spoke, he watched the lines of strain ease and by the end Arthur was chuckling and the looks they shared were warm and promising.

Despite his protestations, Arthur insisted on helping Merlin clear the table, and carried the plates through to the kitchen. As Merlin put the crockery down a knife slipped off a plate. Both men reached for it, fingers colliding and tangling almost before either had realised what was happening. The knife slid through, clattering unheard onto the slate of the floor as they stood, transfixed, staring down and conscious of the warmth of touch. Merlin’s breath stuttered when he glanced up and saw Arthur’s wide eyes, and the expression of desire he witnessed there took his breath away.

“Arthur,” he breathed out the name on a sharp exhale.

The sound seemed to shake Arthur out of his trance and he startled back, mumbled something Merlin couldn't make out, and then was gone. Merlin was left, feeling rather as if he'd been run over by a truck. 

Eventually, he managed to stumble through to his own flat and once he'd locked the door securely behind him he yanked at his zip, scrambling to get his hands on aching flesh. 

**

Merlin was waiting in the hall when the first of the visitors arrived, trying to remain calm when he saw who was included in the party. 

“Arthur,” the beautiful dark woman swept down upon them and leant forward to offer a perfunctory kiss on Arthur’s cheek. “I brought Morgause and Cenred. I knew you wouldn’t mind.”

Merlin didn't miss the tightening of Arthur’s mouth that expressed, to Merlin at least, the fact Arthur was less than happy with the additions. “Your friends are always welcome, Morgana.”

“My sister, Arthur.” It was a tart reminder, but Arthur didn't respond, instead waiting until the others reached him. He exchanged a cool nod with Morgause and a brief handshake with Cenred.

“Why don’t you go into the lounge and have a drink.”

Merlin tried desperately not to react as Cenred paused by him. Cenred's back was to Arthur and so Arthur couldn't see the mocking tilt of the man’s mouth.

“And who’s this cute young thing?”

“Mortimer is my housekeeper. See to the bags, please Mortimer. I’ll see you in the kitchen.”

“Yes, sir,” Merlin had almost forgotten his pseudonym and drew in a calming breath as he managed to present a more respectful demeanour than he'd yet managed with Arthur. He turned away without reacting to either Arthur’s abrupt, cold dismissal or Cenred’s low chuckle. He shuddered with distaste as he retreated ignominiously, his pulse hammering. He was aware Arthur was angry – he just wasn’t sure who he was angry at. As he slid through the door, he heard Morgana’s voice.

“Oh, Arthur, isn’t he _precious_!”

Merlin might've wanted to vomit at that point.

It didn’t take long before Arthur was slamming into the kitchen. “Really, M,” he snarled. “Do you flirt with everyone?”

Merlin almost gasped at the sheer injustice of the sudden attack.

“What the hell do you mean by that? I was not flirting. God,” he scrubbed his hands through his hair in agitation. “He’s… I… Arthur, I don’t want to be anywhere near him.” Even he could hear the honest revulsion in his voice, though Arthur could have no idea exactly what prompted it.

Arthur looked contrite and exasperated all at the same time. “Sorry,” he muttered, and then asked. “Can you cope with another two for the weekend?”

So the jealous outburst was to be ignored, although Merlin thrilled as he acknowledged that was what it'd been. Well, ignoring it suited Merlin just fine, for the moment at least. There was no way he wanted to discuss what was happening between them with Cenred around. He seized on the mundane with gratitude.

“No problem at all, Arthur. I made up all the rooms anyway just in case and there’s plenty done for dinner tonight. I’ll serve about eight pm if that suits you?”

There was a long pause, and Merlin busied himself mangling some carrots beyond all recognition as he refused to break the silence. He wasn’t aware of Arthur moving and was startled by the soft touch as Arthur cupped the back of his neck briefly. Arthur’s voice was soft and warm.

“Thanks, M.”

And then he was gone.

Merlin glanced down at the orange mush in front of him. Orange and coriander soup for lunch tomorrow, he decided as he dumped the vegetables into a pot and resolutely ignored the memory of the shiver that'd travelled all the way down his spine when Arthur had touched him. He wondered if Arthur had realised. He wondered if Arthur could possibly have missed it.

**

The weekend turned into pure hell for Merlin as he sought to avoid both Morgause and more specifically Cenred, who delighted in baiting him at every opportunity. He liked Leon immediately although he too seemed discomfited when he arrived and discovered the additions to the party. Merlin wasn't surprised, after walking in on what was obviously a row, to have to show Leon to a separate room. Morgana was clearly very unhappy and spent much of the time with her sister.

Meeting Gwen and Lance, Merlin considered, was the high spot of the weekend. There was a sweetness about them that could've been cloying, if it were not for the keen sense of humour both displayed. They seemed to take to Merlin immediately and more than once Lancelot rescued him from Cenred’s unwanted attention. 

Avoiding Cenred felt like a never-ending game of cat and mouse. Never had Merlin encountered a more odious individual, he decided, and he spent most of the time constantly on edge and trying not to notice the increasingly concerned looks Arthur was casting at him.

And unfortunately, the worst encounter of all ended up being interrupted by Arthur rather than Lancelot. 

Merlin had pulled out all the stops for dinner on the Saturday evening, and once he'd cleared away, he headed into his own flat, desperately tired and wanting nothing more than a shower and bed. He'd told Arthur he could cope, but dealing with meals for six as well as all the housekeeping required had exhausted him.

It hadn't occurred to him to lock the door behind him.

It was only when he'd dried himself from the shower and pulled on his robe that he thought he heard something. He walked into the lounge, puzzled and then heard movement behind him as someone shut the door to the short corridor that separated the main room from the rest of the flat. From the crawling sensation taking up residence in his stomach, he wasn't surprised to turn and find Cenred there.

“What do you want?” Merlin said, hating the way his voice trembled.

Cenred’s laugh was low and ugly. “Look at you, all innocent. Have you got what I sent you here for?”

Merlin shut his eyes briefly, flushing with shame. “I sent you the memory card. There hasn’t been anything else since.”

“Not good enough, Jones,” Cenred hissed. “We need more than you’ve provided. If you’re not careful, I’ll have to find another way for you to pay your debts. I’ve got some friends who'd be very interested in what other talents you have. Have you fucked Pendragon yet?” He shot the question out.

Merlin stumbled back, pressing his palms against the wall as he stared wide-eyed at Cenred. “What? No!”

“You’d like to, though, wouldn’t you. Bet you’d beg for it like the little whore you are.”

“Get out. Get out of here!”

“Think I might like a little taste for myself.”

“Jesus,” Merlin breathed in sudden fright, and he darted towards the door, realising with horror that he was in serious trouble. He wanted to shout for help, but if he did, what might Cenred say to Arthur? There was no way Merlin should risk that, but despite that, he wasn't about to let this bastard loose on him. He opened his mouth to yell just as Cenred got a grip around his throat, bundling him against the wall as Cenred's other hand reached for the belt around Merlin's bathrobe.

Struggling wildly and ignoring his assailant’s laughter, Merlin brought his knee up but there wasn't enough leverage to do enough damage and all he got for his attempt was a stinging slap that had his head reeling.

Merlin had no clear idea exactly what happened then, but in the next moment he was sliding down the wall to sit, bemused and frightened, on the floor and Cenred was flying through the air to land with an entirely satisfying crack on the coffee table. The table collapsed under the force of Cenred’s falling body and Merlin stared at Arthur, so beautiful in his rage, as he glared down at the dazed man. There was a copious amount of blood streaming down Cenred’s face and Merlin didn’t think he'd ever felt such satisfaction at the sight of someone injured.

“Get out of my house,” Arthur spoke quietly, but the force and fury of his anger still resonated through the softly-spoken words.

They were interrupted by Morgause and Merlin shivered at the look in her eyes as she cast her glance over the scene and he could see her own fury as she realised what had almost happened here.

Cenred opened his mouth to speak and it was Morgause who silenced him. “Keep your mouth shut, Cenred, and come with me. We’re leaving.” She stared haughtily at Arthur. “Tell Morgana I'll speak to her next week.”

“Tell her yourself,” Arthur retorted. “I just want both of you out of my home. And don’t ever believe you're welcome here. I don’t care if you're Morgana’s half-sister. I don’t want to see either you or your lapdog ever again.”

For a moment Merlin thought she'd remonstrate, but instead she cast a searing, furious glare at Cenred as he clambered haltingly to his feet and staggered towards Morgause. Arthur moved to ensure he was shielding Merlin with his own body and Merlin was grateful for the thought, unwilling to have even Cenred’s gaze on him. Merlin had started to shiver.

There was silence for a few moments when they'd left and then Arthur hunkered down beside him, careful to leave space between them and he didn't attempt to touch Merlin.

Merlin appreciated the concern, he did, but really, all he wanted to do was crawl into the shelter of Arthur’s arms and bury his face against the broad chest.

“M?” Arthur questioned gently. “Can you stand up?”

“Of course I can stand up, you stupid prat.” He managed, his voice sounding strange to his own ears, and he suited action to the words, although he did have to use the wall to push himself to his feet as his legs were shaking. “Thank you, Arthur.”

“You shouldn’t have to thank me.” Arthur’s voice was rough. “I knew he was a nasty piece of work and I’ve seen what he was like around you. I should never have let him stay.”

“Don’t, Arthur. Don’t you dare blame yourself for this.” For some reason Merlin wanted to be angry, but he didn’t have the energy. Instead, he reached out. “I’m just glad you turned up when you did. I’ve had a fright, I’ll admit it, but I’m okay. I really am.”

“God, M, if anything had happened to you-“

It was all Merlin needed. That obvious concern and the warmth and care he could see in Arthur’s gaze. Merlin moved towards Arthur and was unsurprised when arms opened to welcome him in and wrap around him. He realised with something of a shock that he was actually a little taller than Arthur, but still managed to duck his head down, pressing his forehead against Arthur’s neck and breathing in his scent, letting it settle him.

“Are you smelling me?” Arthur’s tone was amused.

“You smell good,” Merlin felt the long day and the gradual seeping away of adrenalin begin to take effect, his eyelids drifting closed.

“You should get some sleep,” Arthur said. “Come on.” 

Yawning widely and unaccountably sad when Arthur loosened his hold, Merlin let himself be led through to the small bedroom and settled under the duvet. “Don’t go.” The plea slipped from him before he could stop it, bubbling up with a sudden resurgence of the panic that had gripped him earlier.

“I’m here, M. Get some sleep.”

There was a hand carding through his hair and another gripping his own and tangling their fingers together.

Merlin slept.

**

By the time Merlin surfaced in the morning, it was to discover that Morgause and Cenred had left immediately as Arthur had ordered, and Morgana had gone too, following her sister. The four members of the party remaining had departed to church and there was a note on the kitchen table in Arthur’s own spikey, strong handwriting, telling him in two sentences to take it easy and remind him about Uther Pendragon arriving for Sunday dinner. Merlin rolled his eyes at the contradictory statements.

He phoned his mother while he arranged breakfast for himself, letting her know what'd happened and to be on her guard should Cenred decide to take out his anger on her, and then ate breakfast while he unpacked the haphazardly arranged contents of the dishwasher and repacked it. He gave Arthur points for trying at least. Then he lost himself in the tasks involved in preparing a light snack for the others to have on their return from the service, while starting on the more major job of preparing the roast dinner. It was soothing work and he felt himself relaxing as he pottered around, enjoying himself as he planned the menu and began to cook. 

If he walked round the house twice to ensure that all the doors and windows were locked, and kept his phone within his reach at all times, then only he would ever know.

When he heard the front door open he tensed and then relaxed as Arthur’s voice called out a greeting. He made his way into the hall and smiled at them, not missing Arthur’s searching glance. 

“I’ll bring coffee and sandwiches into the drawing room in fifteen minutes. When would you like dinner served?”

“Father will arrive around four – say an early dinner at five?” Arthur glanced around at the others for their agreement.

**

The rest of the day passed peacefully enough and Merlin was grateful to Arthur for treating him much as he always had, mocking him gently and, even though he was the hired help, still managing to make him feel a part of the group. It helped without the others there, and even Leon seemed happier. 

Uther Pendragon was a terrifying man in Merlin’s opinion but the careful affection he showed his son endeared him to someone who was head over heels in love with Arthur. Merlin watched any interaction between them with interest and got the distinct impression that they'd shared a difficult relationship in the past but it had to some degree been resolved. To Merlin, it looked like they were building on something and although he could see strain there, it was obvious they loved one another dearly.

Uther had glanced at Merlin when Arthur introduced him, glanced at his son and then raised his eyebrows, although he'd said nothing. Merlin had scuttled out of the room as swiftly as possible, his own cheeks as rosy as Arthur’s.

**

Despite liking all of them, Merlin still let out a great sigh of relief as the tail lights of the cars disappeared through the gates and they were alone. Arthur disappeared into his office after another sharp, interrogative glance, and Merlin bustled around clearing up the kitchen before deciding that he'd strip the beds and get the first load of washing on. He was walking along the corridor, almost buried in a mound of bedding when Arthur decided to come out of his own room and stop directly in his path. Merlin stared at him and couldn’t stop the way colour flushed over his skin.

Arthur smiled, sultry and okay, yes, Merlin decided, smug, as he took the bedding and dropped it over the banister to lie in a heap on the floor below. Then he leaned forward and kissed Merlin, their lips the only point of contact between them.

“M?”

“Arthur.”

“Is this okay? After – I don’t want to push if you’re not ready.”

Merlin had never felt so safe and secure in all his days. “”I’m fine. Really, really fine. I want you to kiss me. Right now.”

With a soft chuckle, Arthur complied.

Their arms twined around one another and they pressed close together. They kissed for a long time, a gentle start building slowly with the passion as it began to fire their blood. Eventually, Arthur broke away reluctantly, tipping his head back to rest against the wall and breathing deeply. His arms remained clasped tight around Merlin’s waist, keeping their bodies welded together. Merlin realised they were both trembling and knew it wasn’t all just about passion.

They were going to do this, Merlin understood. Tonight they were going to step past all the real and imaginary barriers and make love. His fingers shaking, he reached up to trace his fingertips down Arthur’s neck, pausing at the Adam’s apple as Arthur swallowed and gasped at the touch.

“M,” he whispered, and there was such longing, such need in his voice that Merlin could bear the lie no longer.

“Merlin,” he said, and met the puzzled gaze. “My name's Merlin.”

There was a long pause and Merlin could almost see the cogs whirring in Arthur’s brain.

“You lied about your name.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I can’t say. But I’d never do anything to hurt you, Arthur. I promise.” He met the suddenly reserved coolness of Arthur’s eyes and prayed his own expression gave enough away. “I never wanted to lie to you,” he whispered.

Arthur turned them suddenly, leaving Merlin’s head spinning as he suddenly found himself pinned to the wall. Arthur pressed his hips into his body and Merlin understood that, despite the conversation, the desire was still coursing through both of them.

He leaned forward into the kiss and let Arthur control it, opening to an almost brutal onslaught as Arthur licked into his mouth, then nipped cruelly at his lips. It lasted only a few seconds and then gentled. Arthur pressed his forehead to Merlin’s and sighed deeply, before stepping away to put a little distance between them.

“You will hurt me,” he hushed Merlin’s instinctive denial. “It’s really rather inevitable. Right now, I don’t care. I just need you to take me to bed. Let’s pretend for tonight that there’s nothing wrong, no secrets between us. Just for a little while.”

Merlin stopped him again. “Arthur, wait. There’s something else.” The flush that turned his cheeks rosy would've been charming if he hadn't looked so pained, so embarrassed. He took a deep breath and then, in a rushing tumble of words he gasped out, “I haven’t been with anyone before.” He was staring down at his hands, wringing them together.

Reaching forward, Arthur gently cupped his cheek until Merlin met his gaze and then leaned forward to kiss him, moving from his lips, trailing his mouth across his cheek until he could whisper in Merlin’s ear. “You’re going to have a _very_ good time tonight, Merlin.” 

 

Merlin’s soft confession seemed to have roused every protective instinct Arthur possessed and although Cenred’s name wasn't mentioned, Merlin guessed the events of the previous night had compounded Arthur’s need to look after him. Merlin was still more shaken by his close call than he wanted to admit, even to himself, and didn't object as Arthur tightened his grip and dropped kisses on Merlin’s head, his nose, his cheeks, until finally Merlin, a little disconcerted by such attention, muttered:

“I’m not actually a girl, you know.”

Arthur laughed, his rich chuckle low and throaty as he reached down between them and cupped his hand over the hardness he found there. “Oh, don’t worry, Merlin, I'd worked that one out.”

“Bastard,” Merlin gasped, arching up into the pressure, but he grabbed a handful of Arthur’s hair and slammed their mouths together, his heart stuttering and banging in his chest at the passion in Arthur’s response. 

They stumbled into Arthur’s bedroom, hands clutching and searching for skin. Merlin felt fire fizz through his blood, making him burn from the inside out. He groaned as Arthur’s tongue slipped into his mouth, happy to let him explore and then taking great delight in returning the favour before Arthur broke the kiss to mouth at Merlin’s neck.

Scrambling, harried, they hauled off their clothes and then paused to stare at one another.

“Arthur.” Merlin knew there was reverence in his tone. His gaze slid over Arthur’s naked form, taking in the broad chest, the pink nipples, trim waist and the way his cock jutted out proud. But it was Arthur’s expression that caught him. Arthur was looking at him, at Merlin, and there was awe in his expression, desire and a little disbelief.

Arthur smiled at him and held out his hand and Merlin walked into his embrace.

“I fell in love with you the first moment I saw you,” Arthur confessed and all Merlin could do as Arthur’s beautiful hands slipped across his naked skin was whisper.

“Me, too. Oh, Arthur, me too.” He gasped as their cocks brushed, sticky and hot and the blood in his veins ignited once more. 

The bed was soft and smelled of Arthur. Merlin rolled over and pressed his face into the pillow, ignoring the soft chuckle for a moment as he lost himself in Arthur’s scent. He wanted to be covered in that scent, just as he wanted to cover Arthur in his. He wanted to sleep in a bed that smelled of them. 

Weight settled on him as Arthur spread himself out along his length; knees aligned, his erection pressing against the cleft of Merlin’s arse, chest hair prickling against the skin of Merlin’s back in another new sensation, Arthur’s mouth sucking and nibbling at his neck and their hands lying entwined above Merlin’s head.

Merlin shivered with delight and anticipation. “Will you fuck me?” he asked, surprised at the husky want in his voice.

“No, Merlin, I’m not going to fuck you.” Merlin didn’t have much time to express his disappointment as Arthur continued in a low growl. “I’m going to make love to you and then, later on tonight, I really, really hope _you’ll_ make love to _me_.”

Merlin shifted then and Arthur moved enough to let him turn, smiling down at him.

“You have the best ideas,” Merlin whispered, swallowing down a sudden lump in his throat. Arthur seemed to realise he was struggling a little.

“Just us tonight, Merlin. No fears, no secrets, no lies. Just us. Okay?”

“Okay,” Merlin managed and then reached up for a kiss, bucking up to rub their swollen cocks together and gasping at the sensation.

From there, it was all intensity and passion and almost before he knew what was happening, Merlin was on his hands and knees, gasping and crying out as Arthur pumped three fingers into him. 

“Fuck, fuck, Arthur, please. I’m ready, I’m ready.”

“You are, oh you are. My God, Merlin, look at you.” Arthur continued muttering the type of romantic nonsense that he'd hotly deny in the cold light of day and Merlin hardly heard him anyway, letting the rumble of his voice gentle his hammering heart, only half aware of the crinkle of paper, the sudden hitch in Arthur’s breathing, the snap of the cap on the lube bottle.

And then.

Pressure.

Pain. Oh God. Pain.

Merlin sobbed, smashing his face into the pillow and tried to let Arthur’s scent soothe him and help him relax.

“I’ve got you, Merlin. You’re doing great. Just breathe through it.” 

Arthur slipped further in, stretching, pushing, pressing. 

In in in.

Oh.

_Oh!_

Merlin wasn’t aware of making a noise but he felt the chuckle rumble through Arthur.

“You like that?” His words were accompanied by another thrust, rubbing against his prostate. “Do you, Merlin?” 

There was a trace of uncertainty lurking under the amusement and Merlin hurried to reassure him.

“Yes, yes it’s so good. Please, Arthur. More.”

More more more.

Arthur pulled back and then pressed forward, again and again, picking up speed and power until he was thrusting hard. Merlin realised he'd completely lost control and loved the fact, rutting into the bed and moaning as the sensations spiked up his spine, radiating out from the core of him. 

His orgasm was a shock and he was almost wailing as it rushed through his body. He clenched around Arthur and heard him curse as his body stilled and he tumbled over.

It was some time before Merlin came down, and Arthur had already disposed of the condom and cleaned them up before gathering Merlin’s pliant, shaking body into his arms. He didn’t say anything, for which Merlin was grateful, he simply, slowly, slid his hands up and down Merlin’s back, not seeming to mind the way he was being clung to, or the heat of Merlin’s breath from the face pressed so tightly against his chest.

“Thank you,” Merlin managed eventually, and he moved away slightly until he could see Arthur’s face.

Arthur’s expression was fond. “Thank _you_ , Merlin. Are you okay?”

“Yes – it was… it was… amazing.”

Arthur looked smug. “Of course it was. I did promise you a good time.”

All Merlin could do was shake his head and mutter about arrogant prats, before Arthur pulled him close again. 

“Sleep,” he was ordered, and Merlin could almost hear the sultry grin. “You’ve got a busy night ahead of you.”

**

They woke slowly and Merlin winced as he moved. He slid across the bed and scrambled to find the switch for the bedside lamp. A soft light illuminated a sleepy, grumpy-looking Arthur.

“Too early,” he grumbled.

“Do you have to go to the office today?”

“Yes,” Arthur admitted and Merlin was sorry he'd asked as the familiar tension tightened Arthur’s expression. 

Merlin heaved a sigh of regret, but neither of them could ignore the reality of the situation they found themselves in and he leaned forward, ignoring Arthur’s appalling morning breath, and suspecting his own was as bad, in favour of a long, deep kiss.

Into it he tried to pour his regret, penitence and love.

“Then it’s time to face the day. You shower and I’ll start breakfast.”

Arthur nodded and he yawned, scrubbing at his eyes like a sleepy child in a manner so adorable Merlin had a real struggle not to clamber back into the bed. He took a deep breath, slipped into his clothes, and headed for the kitchen.

**

It seemed to take an age before Arthur could tear himself away that morning and as they stood on the doorstep wrapped up in one another enjoying yet another kiss - scandalising the postman in the process - Arthur kissed his way round to Merlin’s ear and whispered.

“Move your stuff upstairs, yeah?”

Merlin pulled away a little to search Arthur’s expression and then smiled and nodded. He watched as Arthur drove away, feeling like a lovesick idiot and not caring as he waved until the car turned out of the gate, ridiculously pleased when Arthur pressed the horn in response.

Then he was on his own and it took only moments before the enormity of what had happened and what it might mean washed over him. Sudden emotion flooded through him and without any further thought, he grabbed the phone.

“Mum,” he said when she answered, and his voice wavered suddenly. “Mum, I think I’ve done something stupid.”

**

The next few weeks passed in a blur for Merlin. On the one hand he'd never been happier, but there was always the edge of fear, the knowledge that he was lying to his lover and they both knew it. It couldn't help but make a difference to their relationship and, coupled with the strain Arthur was obviously under, it led to some epic fights and bitter words. They made up quickly, drawn back to one another as if they couldn't help it, and Merlin discovered what people meant when they talked about make up sex. Those nights were wild, neither of them holding back as they used sex to mitigate the residual effects of their fights.

It was good sex, even when it was angry sex or sad sex, but Merlin loved the weekends the best. Arthur hadn't attempted another house party and the weekends were spent together. It seemed as if they'd tacitly drawn lines around those precious hours, spending the time together in a quiet domesticity of long walks in the local countryside, lazy breakfasts, reading the Sunday papers in bed until noon, attending the evening service in the local Parish church, talking, laughing, loving.

Making the most of every moment.

As if they knew it couldn’t possibly last.

** **Late November**

Arthur was woken by a gentle shove, his questioning grumble stifled by the hand covering his mouth. 

Quietly, on a breath, Merlin whispered into his ear. “Are you expecting anyone?”

Arthur shook his head, aware then that he could hear sounds from the ground floor of the house. They were the sounds of someone trying to be as silent as possible, an occasional creak of a door or floorboard.

“Stay here and phone the police.”

There was a note in Merlin’s tone that Arthur barely recognised, something confident and controlled that had him agreeing before he even thought about it. He grabbed his mobile from beside the bed, dialled 999 and spoke quietly, watching as Merlin pulled jeans and a t-shirt on just and padded silently to the bedroom door.

“What are you doing?” Arthur grabbed at his arm and unaccountably missed as Merlin slid sideways out of his hold. Arthur spent the next few moments developing new and inventive rude epithets for Merlin as he scrambled around to find his own clothes. He flushed slightly in an odd mix of remembered pleasure and embarrassment as he recalled the way his clothes had been removed and scattered just a few hours previously.

By the time he was dressed, Merlin was already moving down the stairs, still silent, and Arthur did his best to follow his lead, returning Merlin’s scowl and silent gesture to stay where he was with a scowl of his own. There was enough moonlight to see Merlin roll his eyes and glare once more, before he continued towards the study.

Arthur watched as Merlin paused outside the door for a moment, listening and realised he was gauging how many people could be involved. Then he straightened, suddenly seeming taller and broader, opening and stepping through the door, switching the lights on as he did so.

The startled exclamation of the man they'd interrupted was overlain by Merlin’s crisp no-nonsense tone.

“Stay right where you are. The police are already on the way.”

There was a moment’s stillness as Merlin and the intruder stared at one another, seemingly sizing one another up. 

Arthur moved to stand behind Merlin, so that he could be seen and the man would realise it was two against one. The intruder’s mouth curled, as if he didn’t think much of the opposition and Arthur couldn’t be surprised. Both he and Merlin were tall, but while this man was tall, he was broad and well-muscled. Combined with the scar on what should've been a handsome face, he looked like someone who could easily handle himself in a fight.

The man’s scrutiny had obviously led him to the same conclusion and he moved suddenly, heading directly for Merlin. The warning shout got caught in Arthur’s throat as a few seconds of confused limbs ended with the man’s cheek pressed against Arthur’s desk. Merlin had one hand on his neck, keeping him pinned, while the other was gripping the wrist of the arm twisted up the man’s back. Merlin was using his weight to help keep him still.

And Jesus. Fucking. _Christ_. Despite the situation, it was the hottest thing Arthur had ever seen. Merlin turned his head and met his gaze, his eyes widening and cheeks flushing.

Into the sudden stillness, a siren sounded, the eerie wail ululating through the night air.

Merlin blinked, breaking the stasis. “Let the police in, Arthur. This one isn’t going to give me any trouble,” He turned his attention to the man pinned beneath him. “Are you?” And he pressed harder until the man grunted and managed a minute shake of his head.

Arthur swallowed and nodded, stumbling away to fumble with the locks on the door. When the police swarmed into the house, he stood back, watching Merlin. It was as if he was seeing a stranger, noting the crisp, no-nonsense conversation, the way Merlin outlined events as if he was delivering a report. Neither did he miss the glance that passed between the Detective Inspector who arrived and his lover. Swallowing hard, Arthur tried not to think about what that all implied.

Once statements had been taken and the police had departed, Merlin and Arthur were left staring at one another.

“So,” Arthur managed after the silence had stretched. “You’re one of the good guys?” His tone was neutral and he watched as Merlin swallowed.

“I am, Arthur.”

“Why didn’t you fight Cenred off? You’re obviously capable.”

Merlin shrugged. “He caught me by surprise – and I think I froze when I realised what he – what he –“

Arthur held up his hand, unwilling to see him struggle, and decided he didn’t want to press any further. Somehow he felt that what had happened tonight was significant and that the attempted theft meant the whole sorry saga was drawing to a close. He'd no idea what that might mean for Arthur and Merlin. He searched around for a way to ease the tension between them.

“It was really hot.”

“I beg your pardon?” Merlin gaped at him.

Suddenly it was easy for Arthur to smile. “Watching you in action like that – all alpha male.”

He watched as Merlin’s eyes narrowed and a shiver travelled down his spine as he witnessed Merlin draw himself to his full height and stalk towards him. He stopped just within touching distance and reached out to tip Arthur’s chin up.

“Do you want me to take charge tonight, Arthur?”

The breath caught in Arthur’s throat, his skin flushing with heat.

“Do you?” A low, sultry, seductive question.

“Yes,” Arthur whispered.

** **Early December**

“Father?” Arthur had been confused by the sudden call to his father’s office. Uther Pendragon was nothing if not a man of habit, and scheduling meetings in advance was part of his usual way of working. It was unheard of to be pulled into the Chief Executive’s office with no warning. He was even more confused when he walked into the room and realised he was obviously the last to arrive. Uther was tight-lipped and at his most stern, raising Arthur’s concerns.

He glanced around, further unsettled by the sight of a red-eyed Morgana, looking quite unlike her usual poised self. In a whimsical moment, really a futile attempt to ignore the sudden crushing knowledge that he was about to hear something he'd really rather not know, he wondered when he'd last seen Morgana without her flawlessly made up face. 

There were three other people in the room. A man he didn't know at all who oozed authority, a woman he hadn't met but recognised immediately - and Merlin.

Merlin who looked as guilty as sin, his gaze fixed on his boots. Merlin’s mother, a face he knew from the photograph that had pride of place on the bedside cabinet, smiled at him before casting a worried glance at her son.

“What’s going on?” he demanded. “Merlin?”

**

 

When he spoke, Merlin looked up and met his gaze. “Arthur, I – It’s – I’m sorry, I didn’t mean –“

Arthur held up his hand, stopping Merlin before he could go any further. If there was something to clear up between them, then he would rather it didn't happen in front of an audience. Somehow, he already had the inkling it was going to be an epic blow up.

“Father?” he asked again, his tone stern, and by now he'd gathered his composure around him. Now he was the astute businessman, collected and severe. Controlled.

“You realised something was wrong, didn’t you, Arthur?” Uther seemed proud to acknowledge it. “I did, too. I noticed irregularities in some of our contracts almost a year ago. Small things going wrong, a couple of minor contracts we lost when we should not. It was nothing major and I almost overlooked it and thought it was just a run of bad luck. It was only when the Amundson contract ran into difficulty that I began to wonder if something bigger was going on.” He paused and his expression twisted. “I did a forensic analysis of all the projects we'd either lost or had run into operational difficulties. I was – dismayed - to realise someone was getting information from the highest level within the company.”

The highest level. Arthur stared at Morgana and abruptly turned his attention back to his father. It was the unwelcome conclusion he'd come to, as well. If it was the highest level then it had to come from them. From family. He thought back to some of the financial analyses he'd been doing over the past few weeks and then he stared at Uther. He was about to rail at him, to ask his father how he could possibly have suspected his son and yet - . He recalled his own angst and his horrified realisation that the people he loved the most in the world were the very people he was no longer sure he could trust. His father had been in an invidious position and now he looked closer he could see signs of strain he was convinced were reflected in his own expression. Dumbly, he stared around at the company assembled in the room and then back at his father, waiting for an explanation he knew instinctively he wouldn't like. He couldn't look at Morgana.

Uther sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers before he took up the narrative once more. “I realised I'd no choice but to involve the police. I contacted the Fraud Squad six months ago and we were working to find out how the information was being transmitted from the company.”

“It was me.” 

Arthur thought he might stop breathing altogether when Morgana spoke and he wondered what his expression was when he faced her, because she took one look, and covered her face with her hands.

“Oh, my dear child.”

Uther moved across and in an uncharacteristic display, he wrapped his arms around Morgana and held her close. “You mustn’t blame yourself. You thought you could trust Morgause, and you should've been able to trust her.” He looked across to Arthur.

“I realised almost immediately that Morgana was the root of the information. I was aware you'd realised something was wrong, Arthur, but I was advised against telling you about the operation unless it seemed you were getting too close.” 

“The operation?” Arthur asked.

“We needed to work out who was involved and what they were trying to do, because it wasn’t immediately obvious. I expect the information you were uncovering confused you.”

“It made no sense,” Arthur said. “I couldn’t see any reason for what was happening. The contracts going wrong were so random. They certainly weren’t the ones I would've chosen if I was involved in industrial espionage, or if I wanted to destabilise the company to engineer a takeover, or to try and hide any financial malpractice or fraud. It was as if –“ He stopped in mid flow and he could see by his father’s expression that he'd talked himself to the solution. “It wasn’t about anyone getting any monetary gain, was it? It was about destroying Pendragon Holdings. Morgause was trying to destroy the company. But why?”

 

“Not just Morgause,” Uther said. “I’m afraid both Agravaine and Tristan were involved, too. In the end, it was all about revenge. They blamed me for Ygraine’s death. I knew they didn’t like me - they never did - and I'd never trusted them enough to let them have any leverage in the company, but then they found Morgause.”

It was Morgana who took up the tale then, and Arthur tried to remain patient until he had more of the facts, all too aware of a blue gaze fastened on him.

“Morgause was so sweet to me, Arthur. She found me and told me so much about my mother – I loved her so much and trusted her completely.” She swallowed. “It was so subtle, what she did – any time she mentioned you or father, there was always criticism. It was always about how you were putting me down, or not giving me enough credit. She got me to talk to her about what was happening in the company. She was using me and I didn’t know what to do when I realised. It was a long time before I could even believe it. I thought she loved me and it all meant nothing.” Her voice broke and she turned her face to hide it against Uther’s shoulder.

Arthur could hardly credit what he was hearing, and though now he had an inkling of what had been going on there were still so many questions. Uppermost amongst them in his mind was where Merlin and his mother fitted into this. Let alone the other man in the room who'd yet to be introduced. He fixed his gaze on him and raised his eyebrows.

The man smiled slightly as he recognised both the scrutiny and the questions. “Mr. Pendragon, my name's Peter Kilgarrah. I’m a superintendent with the Criminal Investigation Department. My team were already involved in another case - trying to get to the bottom of a major loan sharking operation. We were pretty sure Cenred Essetir was running that operation, but we could never get enough evidence linking him with it. DI and DS Emerson were already undercover as a mother and son fallen on hard times. We wouldn’t normally have family members working together, but Essetir had already weeded out other officers we'd tried to put in. Putting in people who knew one another as well as a mother and son do seemed a valid approach.

“We knew who Essetir’s girlfriend was and when Mr Pendragon came to my superiors, we made the connection and saw an opportunity, one that would put Essetir away for even longer with any luck. Merlin here had a job as a cook and housekeeper in a local guest house and their cover was that his mother was an alcoholic who'd got them into debt. We were trying to find a way to get to Essetir however we could to establish a line of evidence, which made it perfect when Essetir decided to collect on the debt by offering Merlin’s services as housekeeper via Morgause and Morgana. Morgause asked Morgana to do her a favour and suggest giving Merlin a job as Arthur’s housekeeper to Uther. After that it was easy to arrange.”

“I told you I was a good guy.”

It was a weak joke but Arthur recognised it as Merlin’s attempt to make a connection with him. He felt as cold as ice and stared at Merlin as if he was a stranger, wondering how he could be sure that what they'd shared was real, and even if it was, how could it possibly last?

“What's happened? Why are you telling me all this now?” He turned away from Merlin to speak to Kilgarrah.

“You'd taken some files from the office – files that had information on a major contract they wanted to stop. The company Agravaine and Tristan owned had tendered for it and lost, but if they could sabotage Pendragon Holdings on that one, they would've another shot at it, as well as unleashing a reputational backlash your father believes could well have sunk the company entirely.

“Morgana wasn't involved with this particular contract and Morgause couldn’t risk pushing her. Essetir hasn't been seen since he and Morgause left your home almost two months ago. She hired one of Essetir’s henchmen, Val Cartwright, to break in and photograph any files he could find. They were getting desperate. It’s as well for you that DS Emerson was on hand.”

There was a pause in the narrative, but Arthur didn't move his attention from Kilgarrah, even though he was minutely aware of every breath Merlin was taking and could feel his distress. It more than matched his own. Kilgarrah’s gaze was shrewd and Arthur watched it slide between the two of them before he continued. 

“Cartwright not only sang like the proverbial canary, he helped to ensure that we caught Morgause with all the evidence we needed – and the links to Agravaine and Tristan. They’re all going down for a very long time – and in Morgause’s case we’ll be working to get a murder charge as well. I've no doubt that she killed Essetir. All we have to do is find the body. Merlin's suggested we concentrate on their movements following their departure from your house. He seems to think that something that occurred then might've turned Morgause against Cenred.”

 

There was a sound of distress from Morgana, but by now Arthur was feeling numb as well as cold. His gaze travelled over all of them and then settled on Merlin. Where could they go from here, he wondered? He'd known there were lies, Merlin had admitted that much, but how much of what'd happened between them was the result of the situation? He drew in a deep, shuddering breath.

Merlin was white-faced, biting his lip and as Arthur watched, his mother placed a steadying hand on Merlin's shoulder. Hunith’s gaze assessed him, but she said nothing. Arthur was half-aware of the others leaving his father’s office, Uther himself leading out Morgana. As he stepped past Arthur, he pressed his hand to one shoulder, unwittingly mimicking Hunith’s gesture and somehow it made Arthur feel more like his son in that moment than he ever had.

And then they were alone.

“There are no more secrets now, Arthur.” Merlin broke the lengthening silence.

 

“How can I be sure of that?”

“Arthur, I love you. That's always been true.”

Cold. Arthur felt so cold. Like the winter was eating into his soul. Intellectually he knew Merlin was right. And he knew he loved Merlin as much now as he ever did. He'd always love Merlin. But so much had happened and he wasn’t as confident that what had flourished between them in such particular circumstances, would last. The reality was they obviously lived such different lives and his own was fraught and likely to remain so for some time. How could he expect Merlin to stay through that? How could he be sure Merlin was ready for what Arthur wanted from him. In all his life, Arthur had never felt so unworthy of anything. He didn’t want Merlin to feel tied to him just because he felt sorry for Arthur. In the muddled morass of his thoughts, Arthur made a disastrous decision.

“I can’t see you. I need some time.” And he walked away from Merlin’s devastated expression, leaving him standing alone in Uther’s office.

 

** **23rd December**

It was a little less than three months since Merlin had found himself standing on this doorstep. Less than three months since he'd met Arthur Pendragon and knew the first man he loved would be the only man he loved.

He'd given Arthur time but his own doubts had begun to plague him and it had taken an old-fashioned clout to the back of his head from his mother to knock sense into him. Well, that and the strange interview with Kilgarrah when Merlin decided to leave the police force.

Kilgarrah had welcomed him into his office. “So you’re going to get your man, then?

Merlin had paused in a rather ignominious position, half-way between standing and sitting. “What?”

“You were completely committed to a career in the police force before you met the young Mr Pendragon. I assume the fact you're handing your notice in now has something to do with him.”

“You’re not disappointed in me?” Kilgarrah had been something of a mentor to Merlin and he'd appreciated the support he'd received in the past. Because of that, he'd rather dreaded this encounter.

Kilgarrah just smiled at him. “I always try not to get in the way of destiny, young man. I hope you'll be as successful in whatever you decide to do now, as you have been in the past.”

Something in Kilgarrah’s expression had pushed away the fears plaguing Merlin and only a few days later he'd made his way to Arthur’s home, desperate to see him and find out if there was any chance of a future together.

Taking a deep breath, Merlin rang the bell and waited. After a few moments he rang it again and was just beginning to mull over his options regarding where he could sit and wait, when he heard someone approach and slowly begin to unlock and open the door.

Arthur stared at him, his gaze tracking across Merlin’s features: sad, afraid, betrayed, _hungry_.

“Why are you here?” Arthur's voice sounded rusty, as if he hadn’t used it for some time.

It threw Merlin for a brief moment before he reached out, his heart sinking as Arthur flinched back.

“I couldn’t stay away.” All Merlin had left was honesty, an honesty he hadn't been at liberty to indulge in during the operation, and he cast any thought of pride aside. Fear thrummed through him, so scared that Arthur might… “I love you,” he said.

Arthur flinched again, his eyes narrowing and he remained there, two steps higher, staring down at Merlin.

“I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t supposed to …” Merlin stared up, his expression open.

“Morgana and my father are coming for Christmas dinner.”

Merlin knew his double-take was obvious from the sudden quirk of Arthur’s mouth.

“What?”

“Do I need to defrost turkey before I cook it?”

“ _What_? Good God, you prat, you’re going to kill everyone,” Merlin scrubbed his hands through his hair. “I bought that turkey – it’s still got the damn giblets in it…” He pushed past Arthur and, keeping up a steady stream of complaint, headed straight for the kitchen.

**

Arthur had hardly been able to believe it when he opened the door and saw Merlin standing there, looking so afraid and forlorn it took everything in him not to just wrap him in his arms and never ever let him go. But he was still wary and knew Merlin wasn't necessarily here to stay. Arthur was aware his abrupt withdrawal must have hurt his lover and he'd spent the last couple of weeks mired in self-doubt and self-loathing, wondering what Merlin could possibly see in him to want anyway.

The stumbling explanations and the sudden declaration swept away much of his worries and all Arthur really knew was he never wanted to walk away from Merlin ever again, that he didn’t want to spend another day without him in his life. And he knew just how to take away the hangdog, worried expression Merlin was currently wearing.

Once Merlin had barrelled past him, muttering all sorts of dire threats and imprecations, Arthur closed the door and leaned against it for a moment.

And smiled.

** **Epilogue – 2 years later**

The lights in the room were low, reflected back from the polished wood of the furniture. The Christmas tree sparkling with its decorations stood proud in the bay window and was sending out a piny scent reminiscent of the forest. There was a fire in the hearth and people were draped languidly on the sofas and chairs, emitting the vibe of somnolent good cheer that came from eating and drinking almost too much.

Arthur's gaze travelled over them.

That first Christmas Arthur had insisted Hunith was invited, mainly to make sure Merlin wouldn’t leave again, and it was now a tradition for her to spend Christmas with them. Arthur had come to love her dearly and she treated him like she treated Merlin – just like a mother should. He smiled slightly as he watched her charm his father yet again. The two of them were chatting quietly and Arthur thought he'd never seen his father so relaxed and open, his features softened by the warm smile gracing them and Arthur watched as Hunith finished what she was saying, her own smile wide and eyes twinkling as Uther threw his head back and laughed aloud.

His gaze drifted on, settling on Morgana, who was sprawled half across the sofa and half across Leon. They were sharing the kindle she'd received and were reading something together. Arthur thought that, knowing Morgana, it could be anything from _A Christmas Carol_ to _50 Shades of Grey_. His grin widened as he saw Leon cough and swallow. _50 Shades_ then. 

He was aware of his expression softening as he saw the way Leon and Morgana’s clasped hands rested on the swell of her belly.

Morgana looked up then and her saucy wink was accompanied by a soft, fond smile. There was the sister he thought he'd lost. It had taken them all time to work through the damage Morgause had done to their relationship, but they'd persevered and now the three of them were happier and closer than they'd ever been. He returned her smile and knew his own affection for her was clear.

His attention was distracted as the drawing room door opened and Merlin entered. Their gazes caught and held and Merlin smiled. Arthur watched as he wandered through the room, freshening up drinks, dropping a kiss on his mother’s cheek and exchanging a quiet word with Uther before he ambled across and topped up their whisky glasses. Then he settled himself beside Arthur on the small sofa and clinked their glasses together. Arthur smiled as he slipped down slightly so he could rest his head on Merlin’s chest, and felt an arm slide around him. The firelight caught the clear amber of the whisky and turned it gold to match the gold encircling Merlin’s finger. Arthur sipped his drink in contentment, watching the way the flames caught the ring on his hand, too.

This, thought Arthur, is exactly what happy ever after looks like.

Fin


End file.
